


The reunion with the Moon

by depresane



Series: Artist Nation - the 2020 revival [6]
Category: Geography (Anthropomorphic), Original Work
Genre: Anthropomorphic, Antisemitism, Character Study, Christianity, Genocide, Historical References, Metaphors, Moon, Pagan Gods, Poetry, Politics, Post-War, Reunions, Rhyming, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28026393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/depresane/pseuds/depresane
Summary: not the direction I wanted to take when I thought of the heraldic analogy but sure why not
Series: Artist Nation - the 2020 revival [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1914001
Kudos: 2





	The reunion with the Moon

The sky was an escutcheon: half sable, half azure;  
a rising circle argent with features cendrée shone.  
I knelt to pray but Máni, extending arms, secured  
my words beneath my dry lips. He spoke, "That path is gone,  
no ritual can restore."

Indeed, I feared the Twilight and searched for stronger gods.  
My torso stained with water, my bond with Týr undone,  
except his rune has altered, and I've improved my forge.  
Accounts of scorn and mercy described alike the Son.  
He brought no peace, but sword.

An idol - now it's obvious but I refused to look.  
My neighbours slain, converted. Their trustful dukes deceived.  
Preserving my old hunger, I vandalised the books -  
\- all twenty-four. She spat thrice, a shovel at my feet,  
"You're Ashkenaz no more."

A Lutheran or Catholic, no difference when you slay.  
She sought hope when we gave none; but centuries have passed,  
and mass graves looked the same still. The silent silver face  
watched riots and migrations, reporting none. Alas,  
no answer from her Lord.

For men hold might sufficient to ruin plans divine.

My mind was closed for decades despite the finished war.  
In solitude I had to reject my title, Reich;  
in solitude I learnt to respect the people torn.

I can't remove the thorns.

I read to learn her wisdom - I can't remove the thorns.  
The charities, donations - I can't remove the thorns.  
I visit fallen kingdoms - I can't remove the thorns.  
White suit for congregations - I can't remove the thorns.  
Oppressors don't belong.

"Oh Máni," wept my spirit, "I know it's all my fault,  
But I can't stay a Christian, nor should I pray to Týr.  
As if I had no home now, just empty shelves and walls.  
My children won't invite me except for Austria dear.  
I'm the 'aríts forlorn."

Behold - he blinked.  
"I see now. Be honest with yourself.  
The god you want to pray to shall never pity you.  
You're stuck in endless standstill, the ever-falling well,  
and no god can absolve you; indeed, there is no ruth  
for ravens at your door."

I nodded. Stars around him complete celestial crest.  
The coat of arms I'll never be able to hold high.  
I stood up, went to kitchen. I have to do my best,  
despite my politicians and still unchallenged vice.

There is, for me, no rest.

**Author's Note:**

> lines 1 and 2 - heraldic vocabulary  
> line 6 - Ragnarök  
> line 10 - Matthew 10, 34  
> line 12 - Old Prussians, and two Polish Dukes: Henry the Bearded and Konrad I of Masovia  
> line 13 - not a literal vandalism but rather mistranslation and misinterpretation  
> line 14 - ever since I came up with the AN universe, I personified Israel as a woman. It kinda makes sense in hindsight? Because the Hebrew word for a kingdom is feminine.  
> line 35 - oppressor


End file.
